Twisted
by Disasteriffic Kaz
Summary: One Shot for LeahElisabeth where the boys have the usual Winchester luck and Sam's natural grace kicks in. hurt/comfort/humor Season 1


Title: Twisted

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: One Shot for LeahElisabeth where the boys have the usual Winchester luck and Sam's natural grace kicks in. hurt/comfort/humor Season 1

Author's Note: Written for the lovely LeahElisabeth who's been suffering with her own twisted ankle and needed a little Supernatural sympathy pain. :D

Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 and Xenascully – banner day kids. :P

_****Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!**__**  
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Dean snarled and tried to hold on to the slippery, dark creature squirming away from him. "Dammit! Stop…moving!"

"Hold it!" Sam yelled and lost his grip on the thing's tail. "Shit!" He looked up as the sound of running feet came to them. "Oh, crap."

"No, no, no!" Dean's hands slipped off the thing's body and it shot down the hole in the wall they'd been trying to keep it from. "Son of a bitch!"

"It's a dead end, right?" Sam asked hurriedly and passed his brother a flashlight. "You just have to fish it out."

Dean growled and bent down to look inside. Sure enough, five feet back the creature had turned and was glaring angry, red eyes at him. "Yeah and not get eaten by the damn mob while we're at it. Come here you ugly son of a…"

"Okay, I got this." Sam went to the door and glanced out. He could hear the herd of small creatures coming even if he couldn't see them. "You get ugly out and kill it. I'll keep the mob busy." He took off through the door without waiting for an answer. At first, they had thought the group of thirty or so smaller creatures were offspring and then had the shock of watching the parent creature create more. They were like mindless clones the thing created whose sole job was to defend it from attackers. Hell of a defense mechanism, Sam thought as he pounded down the hall and made as much noise as he could to attract their attention. He hoped that killing the big one would kill the rest of them.

Dean groaned and yelped, pulling his arm out of the hole and glared at the two spots of blood on his hand from where it had bitten him. "Oh, you little bastard! I am gonna roast you and put you on a damn roll!"

Sam burst out of the hall into the old mill and spun, bringing up his gun. A half dozen of the smaller creatures swarmed in behind him and he picked them off, then turned and ran again. One of the things dropped in front of him and Sam shot, kicking it aside. "God, you guys are ugly." He panted and tried to run and look up at the same time. His eyes widened because there was a large group of them crawling in time with him over the ceiling high above.

"Okay, that's not good. DEAN! HURRY UP!" Sam bellowed and fired a few rounds into the mass above him, hoping to disperse them. He cried out in surprise as the floor beneath him gave way and then again in pain when he fell forward with a crash and his right leg twisted badly. "SHIT!" He kept his grip on his gun somehow and rolled to his back, biting off an unmanly scream of pain as his right ankle protested the movement, still stuck in the hole. He ignored the spots dancing across his vision and fired again up into the creatures while he gasped for breath.

Sam accounted for another six of the clones before his gun clicked empty. "Shit, shit, shit!" He reared up, took a deep breath and wrenched his foot clear of the old wood floor with a shout. He rolled away and got back to his feet then promptly went back down as his right ankle refused to hold his weight.

Dean yelled angrily and shoved his arm back into the hole, fingers brushing the creature's sickeningly wet nose. "Come ON, dammit!" He stopped and pulled his arm back out when he realized he didn't hear gunshots anymore. "Crap!" He instinctively knew something had gone wrong with Sam. Every instinct screamed at him to go, to help but he stayed where he was with an angry growl and shoved his arm back in the hole because killing this thing was his best means of saving his brother. If he didn't take it out now, before long, they would both be taken down just by the sheer number of the smaller creatures it could produce.

"Done screwin' with your ugly ass!" Dean jammed his arm inside until his shoulder ached and wiggled his fingers, waiting. He groaned when the creature's teeth closed on his hand again but this time, instead of yanking his arm free, he closed his fingers around its jaw. He felt its teeth cutting into his fingers and pulled as it pushed against him, trying not to be dragged out by its own mouth.

The creature came out of the hole snarling and hissing in Dean's grip. "Oh, shut up!" Dean slammed it into the floor, drew his knife, and pinned it to the floor before freeing his bleeding hand. "Little bastard." He pulled the other knife from his boot and bent over the wriggling thing, cutting its head off with a practiced twitch of the blade. Black blood oozed out across the floor as Dean fumbled the lighter fluid from his pocket with one hand and yanked his knife free of the creature's body with the other. "Good riddance."

Dean soaked the body and head and took out his Zippo, lighting fire to both pieces before lurching to his feet and taking off at a run. "Sam?" He heard a chorus of eerie howls from the mill and ran faster. "Sam!" He jumped the now melting corpses of several of the clones in the door to the mill, relieved to see Sam's theory had been right; without the parent creature, they were dissolving. He'd be even more relieved if he could see Sam.

"Over here," Sam called and eased from behind a stack of old crates holding a crow bar covered in black slime. "Nice timing," he smiled. He'd been fighting a losing battle, trying to fight off the mob of clones as they had swarmed him, unable to run away. He kept himself standing now with the boxes and grimaced when he tried to put weight on his right leg again. "Little help here."

"What happened to you?" Dean asked, frowning because he didn't see any overt signs of injury.

Sam waved at the new hole in the floor. "Floor caved in on me." He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Twisted my ankle…or broke it maybe. I dunno. If you laugh at me, I will hurt you."

Dean snorted and went to his brother then knelt beside him. "I didn't say anything. Hold still." He carefully pulled up the leg of Sam's jeans when he shifted his right foot forward. "Okay, ouch." There were scrapes and a bleeding cut up into his calf, but his ankle was quickly swelling and turning purple. He stood and pulled his brother's arm over his shoulders. "Yeah, you're not walkin' on that."

Sam let Dean support him and tried to not touch the floor more than he had to. Each time he did, he hissed in an agonized breath, squeezing his eyes shut while he tried not to pass out with the pain. "That…that really h-hurts. Shit."

Dean half-carried him out of the mill and toward the car and started to consider whether he could get his brother into an emergency room without too much of a fight. "Dude, we should…"

"It's just a sprain," Sam cut him off. "Don't need a hospital."

"Uh huh." Dean was not convinced as he leaned Sam up against the side of the Impala and pulled the door open. "You get in?"

"Yeah," Sam rolled his eyes and turned, supporting himself on the roof and the door and tried to slide in without using his right leg but his balance slipped, his foot hit the ground and he distantly heard his own voice cry out as blackness swallowed him.

"Dammit, Sammy," Dean grunted as he caught his brother's weight before he could topple to the ground. "Always…gotta be…stubborn." He pushed and shoved and got Sam propped in the front seat, closed the door and ran around to slide behind the wheel. "Hospital it is." He shook his head and kept a hand on his brother's chest to keep him upright as he pulled away.

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Sam groaned himself awake as the Impala came to a stop and blinked his eyes open. "Wha…"

"Welcome back, princess," Dean smirked and opened his door. "Stay there."

Sam frowned as Dean got out and then looked out his window, brows rising as Dean came around the car. "Oh, hell, no. Dean." Sam opened his door and glared at his brother. "I told you I don't need a damn ER for a sprained ankle."

"And maybe I would have listened to you," Dean reached down and pulled Sam up with a grin, "right up until the point where you PASSED the HELL out. Now shut up. We're going in."

Sam wanted to argue, but as he literally tried to put his foot down to stop Dean dragging him, pain lanced all the way up his leg into his head again, and it was a long moment before he realized he had crumpled and was gasping for air and being held up in the circle of his big brother's arms.

"Sam. Come on, dude," Dean said worriedly and blew out a relieved breath when Sam's head finally moved. "No passing out before I get you in the damn hospital."

Sam got his head up, face burning with embarrassment. "Sorry. I'm good. I…I'm ok."

"Yeah, you're great," Dean rolled his eyes and started pulling him toward the doors again that whooshed quickly open for them. He watched a nurse at a nearby desk look up and gave her a smile. "Evening, sweetheart."

"Oh, good grief," Sam rolled his eyes at his brother who, even in the midst of his concern for Sam would still take time to flirt. "I can go back to the car now."

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean gave him a shake as they hobbled to the desk. "Little brother here, and…yes, I'm aware of the irony," he said as the nurse's brows rose looking at Sam, so much taller than him, "Went through a floor. Did something nasty to his gigantor ankle. Any chance we can see a doc?"

The nurse smirked, coughed to hide a chuckle and rose. "I think so. Slow night. Just hang on a sec."

"You're hopeless, dude," Sam said with a chuckle as Dean watched her walk away with a little smile.

"I like a good chassis," Dean said with a grin as the nurse came back with a wheel chair, and he lowered Sam into the seat, setting Sam's bum leg up on the support the nurse pulled into place. "Thanks, darlin'."

The nurse smiled, blushing lightly and took the handles from Dean, turning the chair and heading into the back. "All part of the service."

"Might have to go twist my own ankle," Dean muttered, watching her hips sway and earned a laugh from her and a groan from his brother. At least he was going to have something pretty to look at while they spent a couple hours waiting to actually see someone.

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Sam hobbled out of the car with his brother's help and a groan. "Dude, this sucks." His right ankle was encased in a brace and the painkiller they'd shot him up with at the hospital had been fun for a couple hours but had now worn off and the pain was immense. "Think it hurts more with the brace on."

"We're not taking it off," Dean said for the fifth time since he'd gotten Sam in the car. He patted his pocket with a smile. He had the nurse's number tucked away. The four hours spent in the emergency room hadn't been completely boring. "Stop whining."

"You're not the one friggin' crippled here, dude," Sam hissed in a breath as his right leg bumped into his brother's while Dean got the door open and propped the crutches they'd gotten at the hospital by the door. "Crap."

"Not my fault a simple sprain wasn't good enough for you," Dean smirked and pushed the door open. "No. You had to go and twist the crap out of it while you were at it."

"'cause I did it on purpose. Right." Sam rolled his eyes. "I was keeping the angry horde off your ass, remember?"

Dean smiled. He did, but that wasn't going to stop him harassing his little brother. "Whatever. Here you go, princess." He eased Sam down onto the far bed and put his leg up for him. He pulled the prescription bottle he'd gotten from the hospital pharmacy out of his pocket and tossed it in his brother's lap. "Take those. I'll go get some ice."

Sam picked up the bottle, went to set it aside and then shook his head. "Dammit." He hated being stupid on painkillers but, as he shifted his right leg, trying and failing to find a comfortable position, he decided he hated being in pain more. He looked around and groaned. His mouth was too dry to swallow the pills without something to drink thanks to his time in the hospital. He looked over at the crutches on the other side of the room, so much further than the bathroom and shook his head. "Okay. I can do this." Sam swung his legs off the bed and stood gingerly, supporting himself on the nightstand and then hunching over to use the bed. He reached the end and groaned, seeing no way to reach the bathroom without actually walking.

"Crap." Sam rolled his eyes and straightened. "It's not like it's broken." He grumbled at himself and started for the bathroom. He kept most of his weight on his left leg, practically hopping across the empty space between the bed and the bathroom and grunting with effort. All the while, his right ankle sent shafts of pain up into his hip that made him want to curl up and cry. He reached the door, stumbling through and leaned heavily on the sink while he gasped for breath.

"Dude! You couldn't wait five damn minutes?" Dean cussed as he came back in the room with the filled ice bucket and found his brother hunched over the sink in the bathroom. "What part of 'stay off it' didn't you get when the doc talked to you?"

"Needed…a drink." Sam pushed back up and filled a glass with water. He looked down at it and back out to his bed and dropped his head. There was no way he was getting all the way back without spilling it. "Dammit."

"Okay. Okay. Swallow the pride for one damn day. Com'ere." Dean went and set the ice bucket on the sink, took the glass from his brother and pulled Sam's arm over his shoulders.

It galled Sam to be so helpless and knew Dean wouldn't put up with it if it were him. "I can do it."

"Shuddup already," Dean rolled his eyes and got his brother back to his bed. "Here," he gave Sam his glass of water and went into the bathroom, quickly bagging up some ice before coming back out. He laid the bag as gently as he could over his brother's ankle on top of the brace while Sam set the glass aside and let his head thump back into the wall. Dean smirked and rolled onto the other bed with the remote.

Sam groaned and shook his head. "Next time _you_ play decoy." He rolled his aching leg slightly under the ice and chuckled ruefully. "Little bastards were fast."

"And ugly."

"And dude, that smell!" Sam started to laugh and looked over to find his brother sniffing his bandaged hand and that made him laugh harder and hunch over to hold his leg still. "Ow. Ow. Don't make me laugh. Damn."

Dean laughed with him. "I'll wait for the painkillers to kick in," he grinned over at Sam's bitch-face. "Then I'm tellin' all Dad's old dirty jokes."

Sam rolled his eyes, still chuckling and settled back. "You're such a jerk."

"And you're funny when you're high." Dean nodded and flicked on the television. "Bitch."

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_The End._


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